Oh, my dear droogs. For Alexander the Large to weep was a very rare thing to viddy, and I made certain that nobody ever did viddy it.

Once I had successfully made my way into my apartment, I calmly floated up the stairs into the bathroom, and boohoohooed myself into oblivion.

Oh my brothers, what had I done? I had offed the chelloveck who was mostly responsible for setting me free from the Staja to the Ludovico, then finally back out into starry London. If it weren't for him, I'd still be shooting around in my cell with those perverted bratchnies who'd hit on you one minoota then nark you out to the guards over something gloopy. It was the Inferior who gave away all his hope to a young, (ultra) violent malchick, putting all his trust in Your Humble Narrator that I would reform as a corrected veck and be baddiwad no longer.

A nazz, that Inferior was. He should have just abandoned me behind at the Staja to leave me for fourteen. It would've saved his life (but I govreet with just a hint of doubt, droogs, for my followers would have taken the streets anyway and there is a good chance that the ded could've been a victim.) I wept a while but not very gromky so I wouldn't wake my pee and em.

After I spent time hiding away and platching, I goolied to the kitchen and prepared myself a cup of chai along with a small portion of kleb.

Melancholy over the Inferior filled me no longer. Instead, it was thought. If it was any old moodge I had oobivatted, the dates when he was discovered to be gone would vary. But since this was a government official I had beaten bloody with my swordstick, I gave myself odin or dva days till my crime was revealed. But, praise Bog, ultra-violence is common, as you've slooshied me ramble on about many times, and there were plenty of nadsats stirring trouble. They couldn't prove I murdered the veck but they could make me a prime suspect.

I brought my chasha up to my lips and drank a little more chai. It was horrorshow. Chai had a tendency to lift me out of bad spirits, no matter what the reason should be that I was upset.

Shudders were brought onto me when the thought of the Inferior's dook following me crossed my rasoodock. I tried to shake it away, but the thought just constricted itself around my middle and squeezed tightly, much like my new snake. Little old Alex, blending in with a group of lewdies while walking down the Flatblock Marina, when suddenly I have a feeling of being strangled, falling to my knees and clawing at my shiyah frantic like, eventually running out of breath and snuffing it right there on the walkway. Then, I would lay there, the lewdies stepping all over my cold body as they continued with their lives, paying no mind to me. Right before I'd snuff it, the Inferior would appear right before me, shaking his gulliver at me. He would've been the one to have dawn this tragic, tragic death onto me, somehow.

Then, oh my brothers, I would be all oddy-knocky, as I would be until the end of time.

While I was pondering over what my future would be like, I realized I had eaten every last bit of kleb and drank every last drop of chai. Being an obedient malchick (although I was no longer a nadsat and didn't have to help my pee and em, I felt I had to make up for quite a lot), I placed my chasha in the sink and padded off to my bedroom.

After I had left the hospital from my attempt at snuffing it, my parents felt so oozhassny about what they had done that they booted that leech Joe out of our apartment. He was to find someplace else to live in the time that their dear son that they suddenly messeled was the best molodoy malchick on Earth was out of his full-body cast. If he wasn't able to find shelter, well too bad for him, because he'd be sleeping under Albert Bridge with the rest of the merzsky homeless men.

It was razdrezzing to think that all of my precious possessions were in the clutches of that baboochka's family, all of my gorgeous Beethoven discs and other things like such, probably never to even be used. In fact, it wouldn't have surprised me if my lovely lovely Ludwig Van wasn't even in the possession of that soomka's relatives. They were most likely in circulation between many lewdies, sold for higher polly each time. For all of my things that were taken from my hands I had to make up for. I had tried my best to possess a replica of my old quilt (impossible, I realized, it was specially made for Your Humble Narrator), tried to locate the site where my giant Ludwig Van wall scroll was so I could purchase it back from whomever the veck was that owned it (I had found it, but it was a refusing devotchka that 'rightfully' owned it and would not sell it, even for a very handsome amount of pretty polly). But the thing I missed most was my beautiful snake, who supposedly was oobivatted in an accident. I can't fathom what kind of an accident she could've snuffed it in, oh my brothers, but she supposedly had. My gorgeous python.

My em had fussily came into my room one nochy while I was listening to my discs and practically threw a snake on me that she and my father had purchased that day. She shivered and rubbed her rookers as if the python had made her cold. Apparently, they didn't enjoy that I didn't have a pet anymore, and decided that they could replace my snuffed one. This new snake wasn't as charming as my previous one (I was very attached to my starry snake, I had her since the fifth grade), but she was a snake, and I admired snakes greatly.

I flicked on the lights in my room and went over to my bedside table, opening the bottom drawer. There she was, the choodessny thing, shedding her skin. I decided it would be best to leave her alone and stripped my eyelashes off, sticking them on my new mirror like I always had. Eventually, I was only in my neezhnies and crawled into my bed.

I was too fagged to even consider a shower, droogs. My rasoodock was overloaded with the memories of that nochy, and I was constantly reminding myself that I couldn't alter my behavior in the morning, and that nothing ever happened. Then, when the moonlight begins to glow on the stones of the Flatblock Marina, I would meet my droogs in my apartment lobby and we would continue with our average routine. As far as I was concerned, brothers, I hadn't seen the Inferior since I was admitted out of that hospital.

My plan to act completely normal was still in my gulliver as I nodded off, but it was mostly filled with the thoughts of the blonde-haired ptitsa I had met earlier that evening, with her tight-fitting top and green eyeball bracelets.

More to come! The next chapter will take a few days, since I want it to be a little longer. The past two have been short, and I don't like that. It makes me feel like I'm just la-ti-da-ing each chapter. Anyways, thanks for reading this far and expect a new chapter in a few suns and moons.